Dance Through The Blood
by Mister Pretentious
Summary: Charlie Swan comes home one night to find his wife in their bed dead of a drug overdose, and his baby girl screaming mutely underneath a pillow nearby. Whichever god spared his Isabella gave Charlie a chance and he doesn't intend to waste it, even as their life shifts further towards the extraordinary.


Disclaimer: This story is a work of fanfiction. I do not own any rights to the Twilight franchise to which this story is based. This story is made for the enjoyment of myself and others, and is in no way for profit.

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The front door opens and Charlie trudges through the threshold, grunting as the tip of his shoe briefly catches on the bottom of the door frame again. He just got off duty a few minutes ago and today had been particularly stressful. A story easily told by how disheveled his normally neat hair is now. The cause becomes apparent as he swipes his hands through his hair and holds the back of his head for a moment, and releases a gentle sigh.

Making his way towards his living room, he takes a glance at his appearance through the mirror as he walks by the hallway bathroom. He grimaces and decides that a shower is in order. With weary steps, he heads upstairs.

A series of murders had occurred in Seattle. Not a month ago an unwed couple was found dead mid-coitus in a hotel by housekeeping. The cause of death was found to be poisoning from their champagne glasses. The poison was originally designed to act slowly and simulate a severe illness, but the prolonged increase in the couple's heart-rate caused rapid acceleration in the poison's affects resulting in heart failure instead. The word _LUST_ was cut deeply into the man's thigh.

Charlie spies Mrs. Rothshiel asleep in his bed as he moves past and quietly pushes through his bathroom door, flipping the light-switch on negligently. He immediately begins removing his uniform after seeing his reflection in the mirror again. The uniform is covered in filth from the chase that the perpetrator led him and his partner on not four hours ago.

Remnants of old food and drinks left to rot in garbage bins now made a home on his clothes. A stack of garbage bins had toppled around him after he tried to land on top of them from a fire escape. Splashes of blood littered the front of his uniform from carrying his partner to a waiting ambulance.

Charlie and his partner managed to corner the perpetrator who preceded to open fire on them, Charlie's partner had taken a bullet to his stomach. Thankfully the gun was small, a Beretta .22 Model 21 Bobcat, poorly aimed, and had no back up ammunition when the magazine ran out.

Truthfully it didn't feel any different from taking off a soaked shirt Charlie supposed, but there was an over the top level of disturbing to the day that made him think it was more like peeling off a layer of skin from his torso; and the pants weren't any more comforting in that regard. At least they were off him now.

A low growl of frustration leaves Charlie's throat and his fist hits the sink counter with a light thump, being somewhat mindful of the other occupants in the house. Shortly after they arrived at the hospital Charlie's partner was stabilized, he hadn't even lost consciousness this time. It wasn't the first time his partner had been shot, nor he for that matter and it certainly wouldn't be the last. No matter how many times one gets shot though the pain is just the same, it's just easier to deal with it having survived it before. That was the cause of his frustration. His partner survived it this time but who is to say he will the next time or the time after that. Getting shot at is part of their line of work of course but that didn't mean he couldn't take it personally.

He and his partner were fit men, Charlie made sure of it. Even though they both worked well when flying by the seat of their pants, neither were especially intelligent so things like this happened much more often than Charlie would like so he took any advantage he could get; which is why he made it a habit to get together at some point during the week so the two can talk about what they needed to do in different scenarios, although they had gotten fairly good at it sometimes just thinking up the scenarios was an exercise itself.

Another murder followed merely a week afterward; a man from a well off and well to do family. From what was gathered from his family and friends, the man had a jovial nature and enjoyed floating through life. The man visited operas, attended upper class parties, visited the larger cities of the world, things of that nature. His main enjoyment though was eating, and there was _substantial _evidence for that conclusion. The poor fellow was found dead in the men's restroom of the french restaurant he frequented, his face purple and severely swollen. Highly concentrated peanut oil was found within time-released capsules disguised to look like his anti-acid pills, which he always carried on his person. _GLUTTONY _was found carved into the mirror above the sinks in the bathroom.

Charlie Swan is a well-respected man around the Olympic Peninsula, and around the Puget Sound. The townsfolk insist he's a godsend. Honestly though Charlie knows it's his daughter that is the true blessing. Going back into work repeatedly throughout the day was not on his list of things he loves to do, so he does his job with a fervor. Early on in his promotion to Chief of Police, Charlie went about his work with a methodical and meticulous approach; doing this throughout the years has made it all rather streamlined and habitual. His fellow officers never fail to express their jealousy that he consistently finishes his paperwork quickly, if only halfheartedly. It's a constant source of amusement for Charlie.

Unfortunately there are times when cases like these happen, and no amount of experience will make working with outside departments a quick process; Which is why Charlie is taking a shower at two in the morning. He couldn't help but be grateful for the nanny he had for his daughter.

The day after Charlie had first met the woman who became his daughter's nanny, Charlie commissioned a background check on Mrs. Rothshiel and made several discreet inquiries on his own. Yes he knows he abused his authority a little, and no he doesn't care. He takes every precaution he can when it comes to his daughter's safety. There's even an alarm connected to her room window that triggers if the window shatters or if someone removes the screen. Not to mention various other anti-burglary precautions, and deterrents, around the home.

Charlie flinches as cold shower water collides with his body, once again forgetting to let the water heat up before stepping into it. The water heats quickly and the once cold bathroom floods with hot steam. Charlie's eyes close, his head tilts back, and looses a slow breath of relief.

Fortunately the murderer, lovingly nicknamed Queen Minos, was apprehended today; a recently divorced women. When they were able to track the killer down it was a huge shock for those who knew her. The killer, identified as one Kathy Tindle, was described as an "Incredibly caring woman," according to a few of her fellow book-club members, and "A life-saver around the church, always helps me watch the children," was mentioned by the elderly lady that ran the daycare in the Christian church Mrs. Tindle attended who had an unfortunate case of severe arthritis in her knees, and hips.

Mrs. Tindle's own children were found dead in her basement. Mr. Tindle is inconsolable at the moment, he's under surveillance in case he takes a turn for the worse.

God, the children. The simple thought caused a massive convulsion in his stomach that brought him to his knees, the sharp blistering fire of stomach acid clawing up and out his throat. Charlie had kept his emotions locked up while on the job, a discipline of self-preservation he needed to learn early in his career, but he is home now and the emotions hit him like a train. He doesn't cry the years of conditioning, and witnessing too much death have lessened the sadness he feels. However, the shock, disgust, and fury he feels is nearly stifling; the cold clamminess of spreading rapidly across his skin, the shaking in his arms, the sickness in his stomach, his jaw and neck muscles clenching tight, his blood pounding in his veins, all channeling his emotions throughout his body.

He couldn't call himself a very religious man but he hoped beyond all hope that those children were in the arms of their God. There were very few people in the history of humanity that deserved to die like that, and those children were not even remotely close to being on that list. Charlie wasn't the one to find them but he had to see it. He needed to see it, even when the local investigator advised him against it.

What he saw he did his best to burn into his memory. He wouldn't let that happen again, not where he could stop it at least.

It's days like these that Charlie truly questions the goodness of humanity. Thankfully he has his daughter to come home to, his beautiful Isabella. With that his troubled thoughts melted away, like the filth from his body being chased down the drain by the water. A smile lit his face, and then grimaced when the smell of his mouth hit his nose. He needed to brush his teeth.


End file.
